


Like Rose Thorns

by Oceanwhirl



Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Anal Sex, Body Worship, Cow ears, Horns, Hung Otabek, Insecure Yuri Plisetsky, It's inspired by that, Kemonomimi, M/M, MOW Au, Oral Sex, Puberty, Size Kink, Social Issues, Soft Yuri, Teenage Rebellion, They're not furries, You know the Morinaga MOW x Sanrio Character collaboration, horned! Otabek, horned!Yuri, if you want them to be, or maybe they are, overcoming rivalry, teenage angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-21
Updated: 2018-06-03
Packaged: 2019-05-09 21:30:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,937
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14723922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oceanwhirl/pseuds/Oceanwhirl
Summary: There’s always been a difference between normal people and people with horns. It’s in the genes whether they grow and for a very long time it’s been an objective to get rid of the gene that triggers the growth. It’s considered savage to have them, uncivilized, ugly. People with horns are considered dregs, coarse, lesser humans.Yuri Plisetsky grew up to believe that horned people are disgusting. He was proud to not have horns. He was mean towards people with horns or dehorning scars. He regarded them as subhuman.Until his own started to grow...---That MOW collab AU I've been talking about on twitter and tumblr? That's it!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sprosslee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sprosslee/gifts).



> If you want to know more about the universe this is set in, head over to [my tumblr here](https://captainoceanwhirl.tumblr.com/post/174091446429/captainoceanwhirl-mow-au-a-few-days-ago) and check out the blog entry. It's not necessary to read the blog entry, pretty much all you need to know is explained in the story itself, so you can just go on and read it ^^
> 
> Shoutout to Sprossi who helped me so much with this thing!! Du bist die Allerbeste!! <3<3<3

He’s been feeling them grow for months now. 

At first they were barely noticeable under his scalp, small squishy bumps under his skin. He felt them while running his fingers through his hair, turning a blind eye to the fact that there was something there at first, but only until they hardened. Became more solid and bigger, like a 10 kopeks coin, impossible to ignore. They were flat and moving under his fumbling fingers.

Until they weren’t because they were growing onto his skull. 

That’s when Yuri started to panic. Because there was no way he could deny the fact that he, against all odds, was growing horns. He knew he had to tell Yakov and Lilia. But he was scared to do it, so he tried to wait for the right moment. Just that there’s no right moment for a confession like that. 

So Yuri did the only thing he could - he hid them. He let his hair grow out, arguing that it was to support his fairy image, which was enough for his coaches to accept it. He pulled the hood of his sweater up to let no one see the growing knobs springing from the sides of his head. He avoided Mila ruffling his hair, because she’d feel them, still not visible but oh so easy to make out with keen fingers. He started to style his  hair himself for competitions instead of letting Lilia do it. She likes it when he braids his hair back so that’s what he looked into, dozens of Youtube tutorials enabling him to hide the growing bumps under artistically twined hair. 

He tried to talk to Viktor. Not like “Hey, I’m growing horns, what should I do?”, but subtle, probably too subtle for the geezer to notice what was going on. “So that friend of yours, Giacometti. What do you think about him growing his horns out like that?”

Viktor smiled at him nonchalantly, so fucking oblivious that Yuri wanted to punch his face back then, because already then he knew that Viktor wouldn’t get it. “I don’t mind. I don’t think it looks good or something, but he has  _ other qualities _ . Why do you ask?” Viktor said, then after a moment added, “Is this about Otabek?”

No, it fucking wasn’t. It was about Yuri, goddammit, it  _ is _ about Yuri. “No, it’s… I just wondered what it’s like. To have horns, I mean.”

“Why wreck your brain about it? You’re family hasn’t had horns in how many generations?”

Yuri shrugged at that, although he knows exactly how many generations it is. Seven. Seven generations since Ivan Ivanovich Plisetsky was born, all the way back in 1872 when the glamourous Plisetsky family out-bred the genes that trigger horn growth. No single child has grown horns since then, the children have been married to spouses of other hornless families since what feels like forever. 

But that was before puberty struck the late-bloomer Yuri Petrovich and left him with his current crisis. Instead of helping or even just so much as understanding that Yuri needed his help Viktor just smiled bright and oblivious and asked: “Want to join Yuuri and me for dinner tonight?”

Yuri refused. Yuri refused because he got so angry and he still is, four months later. He’s angry and scared and insecure and desperate because it was hard enough to hide those fucking horns once they broke through the skin, but they’ve grown so fast and there’s no way he can hide them like that. They’re peeking out between thick blond hair in a pearl white that’s impossible to miss. They’re slightly fluted and still not very pointy, but they will be and he hates them, hates them so much because they ruin everything. He grabs them with trembling fingers as if he can rip them off, but of course that doesn’t work. Because they have fully grown onto his skull by now, solid and rigid and still so fucking sensitive. By now, removing them will be a nightmare. He’s heard the stories.

It’s not an exclusively Russian thing to remove the bone extension at an early age and it’s not something new. People have been dehorned for centuries, so they would not be judged by the hornless. There’s always been a difference between  _ normal _ people and people with horns. It’s in the genes whether they grow and for a very long time it’s been an objective to get rid of the gene that triggers the growth. It’s considered savage to have them, uncivilised, ugly. People with horns are considered dregs, coarse, lesser humans. So removing them was the only reasonable measurement. Crossbreeding with horn families is an absolute taboo, especially in Russia -- at least since Soviet times when everyone was supposed to be equal. Yuri’s history teacher told them how there were witch hunts for people who refused to have their horns removed in the last century and how radically they were treated. He grew up to think that having them is nothing less but disgusting, like every other Russian child. He was proud to not have horns. He was mean towards people with horns or dehorning scars. He regarded them as subhuman.

At least until he met Otabek. Otabek whom he insulted the moment he saw him, because Otabek has them. Big, curved, pointy, bone-white with a black tip. Massive and dangerous. And he wears them with pride. Otabek doesn’t care about the looks he gets in Russia or so many other countries in the world. Because it’s nothing bad to have them in Kazakhstan where he comes from - quite the opposite. In Kazakhstan horns are and have been a sign of strength and masculinity for millennia. When the Soviet Union was formed people in Kazakhstan, like in every other country, cut off their horns. But now that Kazakhstan is a free country with free people, growing them out is a symbol for a refusal of the social standards the former Russian oppressor forced upon them. In Kazakhstan boys keep their horns now, just because they can. And because no one can take that from them anymore. 

When Yuri hears Otabek talk about his country with so much pride, he feels very guilty that back then when they first met he thought bad of Otabek. Because the truth is that Otabek is incredibly brave. The way the horns stretch out from his head, a wide curve like a crescent crowning him, makes Yuri’s chest feel tight. Otabek is different than anyone he’s ever met, not only because of his horns. His skin is tan with an olive shimmer, his eyes almond-shaped and black as the night sky. He has a nose ring, gold like his name, and he frowns, his eyebrows crinkled all the time, like he is full of doubt. Just that Yuri knows Otabek never doubts. It’s just what he looks like, dangerous and dark and handsome with those awesome horns.

The times have changed, it seems. Christophe Giacometti was the first ISU certified skater with horns when he debuted 14 years ago. Some people say he played a big role in removing the stigma from having horns by refusing to have them sawed off even as a professional athlete. Now there are some other competitors following in his footsteps, Emil Nekola from the Czech Republic and Minami Kenjirou from Japan, where growing horns out has even become a fashion trend in the past few years. 

It’s not that rare to see people with horns nowadays anymore. There’s a famous model from Austria with small horns. Sometimes she paints them with nailpolish or decorates them with bows. There’s a really good metal band from Finland where all the members have horns poking out their long mops of hair and who won the European song contest a few years ago. There are rumors that Disney is going to make a movie about a horned princess.

But there are countries where time seems to have stopped and people with horns are still considered the lees of society. In the Middle East for example and in China and, well, Russia. No way in hell Yuri can just go out and present his horns and everyone will be okay with it. No one will be okay with it. They’ll all be shocked and disgusted that of all people Yuri is cursed with horns. Yuri Petrovich Plisetsky, the prodigy, the descendant of the eminent Plisetsky family, the new shining star of figure skating,  _ the fairy _ . A disgrace.

But he can’t hide them anymore. He pulls at them until it hurts, because he just wants to rip his head off. If only it was that easy. But of course it’s not.

He has to tell them, Yakov and Lilia, but he’s so scared.

For some days he hides in his small apartment, pretending to be ill, but this solves nothing. If anything it makes his situation worse, because after three days Lilia is knocking like she wants to break the door down. He opens with guilt stinging in his chest and his hood up.

“I need to tell you something,” he says, his head lowered. 

Her eyes are like lasers, burning on his head. Much like the cauterization iron would have burned removing the small horn ring, back when it was no larger than a coin. “You might want to sit down.”

She does so, taking a seat on his sofa. Puma Tiger Scorpion lifts his head when he feels the movement next to him but goes back to sleep when he notices it’s neither Yuri nor Otabek. It’s funny how not only Yuri but Potya too has come to like the horned Kazakh.

Lilia clears her throat and Yuri’s focusing on the task at hand. In his head he’s gone through so many possible scenarios in the past few days, but now he doesn’t remember any of his plans. So he just pulls down his hood. His horns peek out of his unkempt hair like rose thorns, pointy and mean.

Lilia gasps. “What kind of macabre joke is that, Yuri Petrovich?”

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs. He really is. “I never wanted to disappoint you like that.”

There’s silence for a long, long time. Then Lilia gets up and approaches him. Yuri doesn’t know what she’s up to. He expects her to slap him or to scream at him or maybe both and he feels like he deserves it. Beauty has always been her priority. Everything she taught him, everything she put him through was only for him to gain elegance, beauty, flawlessness. And now he lets her down like that, making all their hard work pointless. He wants to be slapped. Maybe she’ll feel better if she punishes him. She doesn’t deserve this.

Instead of hitting him though Lilia remains a professional. She checks the roots of the horns and the skin around them, pushes his hair aside with thin cold fingers. Then she grasps one horn and jiggles it, probably to see how strong they already have attached to the skull. All of it gives Yuri goosebumps. Finally, Lilia steps back and her voice doesn’t sound different than usual when she says: “Make yourself presentable. We need to tell Yakov and try finding a solution for… this.”

So Yuri hurries to shower and get dressed.

Yakov’s reaction is not much different from Lilia’s. He’s speechless. Instead of yelling, his head swelling like a red balloon, he sits back in his chair and exhales slowly. Then he looks at Lilia, who gets the prompt.

“They have grown onto the skull fully already,” she explains, her tone all matter-of-fact. Cold. “In this state there’s no way to remove them with paste or an dehorning iron. The only way is to saw them off.”

“No!!” Yuri screams. “Are you insane?!”

“Be quiet,” Lilia says. Her voice is loud and strained and scary and Yuri sits back in fear. He’s never heard her like that. She’s terrifying. “We need to make you ready for the World Championship. There’s no other option.”

“We should have them sawed off this week. The wounds will heal more or less until the first competition,” Yakov adds. “We need to make an appointment, but not in St. Petersburg. We can’t have people see him like this. We’ll take him to Nizhny Novgorod or Voronezh and hope no one there recognizes him. I’ll see if I can find someone who can perform the surgery later this week and book the flights. You go and get us ready to depart as soon as possible.”

Lilia nods and gets up, gesturing to Yuri to follow her. No one seems to notice the tears streaming down Yuri’s face or the painful sobs that worry Yuri’s body. No one cares.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I updated this to the proof-read version ^^b

Yuri cries the entire day. Lilia dropped him off at his place with the words “I want you to be ready tomorrow morning and wait for me to pick you up. You will not leave this apartment unless I want you to. We can not afford anyone seeing you in this state.” Yuri didn’t beg and didn’t whine because he knew it wouldn’t have changed anything. He’s doomed. He’ll have that terrible surgery, some asshole anesthetizing him, restraining his head and sawing his little horns off. With how sensitive the roots and the skin around them are, it will be agonizing. He lies on his couch crying, Potya padding around him with worried meows as Yuri imagines how the blood will run down his face and into his eyes and his hair and how he won't be able to wash it for some days because he can’t get water on the wounds. He imagines how it will feel running his fingers over the thick scars, hairless spots that will mar him forever. No one will ever see what they did to him but he will see it, whenever he looks in the mirror. He’ll always look and see the small, weak Yuri who let them take his horns away. They will break him. He’ll never be as strong and brave as Otabek.

Otabek.

Yuri is up and in his shoes and jacket before he realizes that Lilia will kill him when she comes to pick him up tomorrow and he is not here. She’ll find him and she’ll end him, he’s sure, but at this point he’s taking the risk. He needs advice. He needs someone who understands him. And there’s only one who does. He needs to see Otabek.

His luggage is ready in the hallway, because although he hasn’t stopped crying he obeyed Lilia’s orders and packed for the flight to Nizhni Novgorod or Voronezh. And because he's a good boy he writes a note to Lilia and sticks it to his door.

 

_I need to think_

_I’m sorry don’t be angry_

_Please feed Potya_

_I’ll be back soon_

_-Y_

 

He arrives at Otabek’s doorstep in the middle of the night. He’s stopped crying when he left, because people were staring at him. Still, his face is a mess even in the shadow of the hood he has pulled up again and he knows it from the way Otabek’s eyes widen when he opens the door. Otabek doesn’t even say something, just pulls Yuri in a warm, strong, much-needed embrace and holds him for a very long time.

Yuri feels sorry for bothering Otabek in the middle of the night, but he’s thankful that his friend doesn’t ask any questions, so thankful that he starts crying again, because he doesn’t deserve a friend like this. His hands press against Otabek’s bare back, his face is hidden against Otabek’s throat and it feels very good, the way Otabek strokes his back, the way Otabek feels so solid against his trembling body, his warmth, his scent.

It’s Yuri who lets go after what feels like forever and although he doesn’t want to. Otabek leads him inside and places him on the couch, then sits down next to him. Yuri notices how close they are and it almost makes him smile how comfortable he feels. But then Otabek carefully pushes back the hood from Yuri’s head and sees.

“Oh Yuri,” Otabek says with his nice, velvety voice and then Yuri is in his arms again.

“They want to remove them,” he sobs against Otabek’s shoulder. “They want to saw them off.”

“Your coaches?” Otabek guesses and when Yuri nods he sighs. “And you don’t want that.”

“No!” Yuri snaps, suddenly upset. “Of course I don’t want that! It hurts so much and they didn’t even ask me if I want to have them taken off. They don’t care about what I want. They only care about the Grand Prix and that I can compete there without making a fool out of them. They didn’t care that I cried, they didn’t…” He sobs, another torrent of tears wetting his face and Otabek’s shoulders. “They don’t even listen to me, Otabek.”

With a low hum Otabek cradles Yuri with one arm and raises the other. His fingers are soft in Yuri’s hair and against his small horns. It’s so nice to have someone care for him like this. Otabek’s hands are warm and gentle as they caress the sensitive skin around his horns. It gives Yuri goosebumps. He wonders if everyone is so susceptible to touch there. He wonders if it will go away if it’s all scars and dead tissue.

“I want to keep them, Otabek,” he whispers, his sobs evening out. His ears twitch when Otabek gently rubs the root of his left horn. Wiping the tears from his eyes he turns his head so he can look up to Otabek without moving his head from Otabek’s muscular shoulder. Otabek is really handsome, he thinks, even with his hair disheveled and his expression so troubled. His eyes look so warm in the dim light of the living room, and gentle and understanding. His ears have long black fur on top that looks really soft. Of course Yuri doesn’t dare to touch them, it’s too intimate. He wants to caress them, though. He really wants to. Because Otabek is so incredibly gentle with him it makes Yuri’s belly button tingle from the inside.

Another tear slides from Yuri’s eye and Otabek wipes it away with his thumb. He smiles. “Then keep them,” he says, his voice still so mellow and dark. “They cannot take them if you don’t want it. They cannot force you to have them removed. They do not have the right.”

“But the competition, the program. It won’t work with horns. It won’t work if I’m not beautiful. The program will suffer, my skating will suffer…,” Yuri whispers but he knows it’s a weak objection. Otabek competes with horns. Christophe does. Emil does. Kenjirou does. This is not a skating issue. It’s a Russia issue. And Otabek knows that too.

“It doesn’t matter,” Otabek answers, scrutinizing Yuri’s horns. “If you want to compete like this then they have to accept it.” He looks Yuri in the eyes and suddenly he seems to be so torn, like this is not just about Yuri, but about the entire world. “You’re beautiful like this, Yura,”,he says and the way it sounds so honest makes Yuri’s insides clench.

Otabek is easy to be around. Yuri learns that the next day. Otabek doesn’t only let him stay, he takes care of him. But at the same time he gives him space to think. And there’s a lot to think about for Yuri.

Surprisingly, Lilia only sends him one single text. _The cat will be taken care of. I expect an apology as soon as you are back._ That’s it. They probably assume he’s gone to Moscow to see his grandpa. If they knew he was “hanging out with this rugged Altin”, like they used to complain when Yuri and Otabek became friends, well, then the text would probably have looked a lot different.

The downside of being with Otabek is that Yuri loses focus easily. Sure, Otabek doesn’t demand his attention all the time, instead Yuri catches himself staring to his friend more often than he can justify. The apartment is small, smaller even than Yuri’s because Otabek is by far not so well positioned when it comes to sponsors and marketing deals. They can not avoid each other without one of them leaving the apartment. So Yuri catches himself looking over when Otabek cooks. And when Otabek sets up the table. And when Otabek answers emails on his laptop. And when Otabek works on his music. And when Otabek reads a book about whatever because Yuri couldn’t care less about the book when Otabek’s eyebrows furrow in thought and it's such a sight.

Yuri notices that Otabek’s ears twitch when the fridge starts humming. He notices how Otabek plays with his golden nose ring when he’s focused. And how Otabek’s chest moves as he breathes. The muscles in his jaw flex sometimes and the small round pendant around Otabek’s neck glitters. That and Otabek’s scent, here, and in the bedroom where Yuri slept last night, Otabek moving over to the couch. There is fondness  in Otabek’s eyes when he looks over to him, like he wants to make sure that Yuri is still here, on the couch, exhausted from yesterday and thinking about things, but not the right things. Not when there’s a tiny smile on Otabek’s lips. Yuri smiles back every time. He feels so comfortable here, despite the slight tickle in his stomach.

In the evening Otabek cooks again. He refuses Yuri’s help with the words “You’re my guest.” It’s rice and vegetables. Yuri inhales the heavenly scent of the food when Otabek sets the plates down on the low oriental style coffee table between couch and television.

They watch a documentary about outer space and although Yuri thought he’d probably not understand a single word, it’s really interesting. The astrophysicists are so enthusiastic about their profession when they explain how supernovae work and Yuri can’t help but think that one day Otabek will be one of them, when he’s finished studying. How Otabek can be so smart and handsome and a wonderful friend all at once Yuri can’t wrap his head around. He decides to just enjoy Otabek’s company as long as it lasts.

They stay on the couch after dinner. The scientists keep explaining the wonders of space to the audience but at some point Yuri focuses a lot more on Otabek’s presence beside him. He scoots a little closer, making his friend turn towards him with this soft shimmer in his pitch black eyes again.

“Tired?” Otabek asks. His voice is molten dark chocolate.

“A little.”

“Come here.” Otabek crosses his legs and puts one of the pillows on top for Yuri to lay down. Yuri places his head on it and relaxes. His eyes are on the screen but as soon as Otabek’s soft hands are in his hair again his train of thought gets lost somewhere between space and time.

He doesn’t know what to do. He does know that he’s scared though. Scared of telling Yakov and Lilia that he doesn’t want to undergo surgery, scared of what they will think. Scared that they will not let him compete. If they abandon him he’s fucked. There’s nothing he can do besides skating. He’s 16 years old and all he can do is glide and jump and dance. If they kick him out he’ll have to go back to Moscow, back to the life he had before he could provide and feed himself and grandpa.

What will life be like then, when he loses everything, his coaches, his tuition and his sponsorships? Maybe he can leave the country and train somewhere else. He could come here and train at Otabek’s rink where horns are just horns and not a political statement. It would be so nice to see Otabek more often than their busy schedules allow right now. They could hang out more. Yeah, that would be nice.

Yuri is almost asleep when Otabek touches his horns. He’s awake within a heartbeat. Very gently Otabek’s fingers trace the base of Yuri’s stubby little horns. Right there, where the skin ends and the horn comes out, that’s where he’s the most sensitive. It’s like Otabek knows that. His fingertips carefully massage the root and the area around it. It feels good, so good that it tingles in Yuri’s stomach. And, farther down, too. He closes his eyes, turns his head a little so Otabek has a better angle to rub the soft skin. His heart hammers against his ribs and his blood rushes to his face and other places. Otabek increases the pressure a little and Yuri can’t help but squirm on the couch, his ears twitching.

Everything here carries Otabek’s scent. He notices when he tries to hide his flushing face in the pillow as unsuspiciously as possible. It’s a nice scent and it’s everywhere around him. That and this intense warmth Otabek is radiating. His fingers feel so good against Yuri’s horns. Yuri bites his lips to avoid making a sound, to avoid anything that will tell Otabek that what he feels is really indecent right now. He shouldn’t exploit his best friend’s attention like that, but he can’t just sit up and say, “Hey, it’s nice of you that you care for me like that, but could you please stop rubbing my horns because itmakes me super horny”, hell no, that won’t work. He can’t put Otabek in such an awkward position. He’ll just stay quiet.

And he does, at least for a while. It’s just that when Otabek scratches the root softly with his short fingernails he can’t be quiet. It feels so good and a moan escapes his throat, muffled by the pillow, a soft, unintentional “Aaah!”

Otabek’s fingers still and Yuri freezes, too. This is bad. He sits up and stares at Otabek with wide eyes, whose cheeks are red, just the tiniest bit. Proof that Otabek knows what sound that was and why it was there.

Before Otabek has a chance to say something or look at him closer (which would inevitably reveal Yuri’s arousal) he jumps to his feet and flees from the room. The bathroom door falls shut and Yuri turns the key, then buries his face in his hands, whining.

That’s it, he ruined it. Spoiled his only friendship, with the only person he can be open with, just not _that_ open. His mind races when he tries to think of what he can do now. He can’t possibly stay. Otabek will not let him get away without at least an explanation of what just happened. And what will Yuri say after “you rubbing my horns arouses me like hell” is ruled out already? The only thing he can think of is “That and sorry, but your scent is a goddamn aphrodisiac, your horns are incredibly sexy and the rest of you is too. No homo.” Damn, is he hot for Otabek on top of all his other problems? Do his fucking hormones, pun intended, ruin not only his career but his only friendship as well? How the hell has he deserved all this? He must have been a really bad person in his previous life.

The only choice he has is leaving, so that is what he does. He doesn’t give Otabek an explanation except “I have to leave”, which in fact doesn’t explain anything at all.

Otabek, the good soul he is, doesn’t aks any questions and lets him go with a “You know, if you need me I’m always there for you.” Yes, Yuri needs Otabek right now but way different than the handsome Kazakh probably thinks.

So it’s the middle of the night again when he rings the bell to yet another house. Just this time the sign reads _Plisetsky_.

The good thing about Yuri’s grandfather is that he doesn’t ask questions either. He just welcomes Yuri into his ratty old house on the outskirts of Moscow like he was already expecting him.

“There’s borscht in the fridge,” he says before kissing Yuri goodnight on his cheek, looking at the horns for a second and retreating to his bedroom.

Yuri eats the soup cold in his old room. Nothing has changed here in the past ten years. There’s still the old music box that hasn’t worked for so many years so Yuri doesn’t even remember the melody it’s supposed to play. All his books are still here, Cheburashka and Grishka and the fairytales. He flips through one of them, smiling when he sees that he tried to trace the lines of the illustrations with pencils as a child, completely ruining the pictures with his unskilled scribbles. With a sigh he flops down on his bed. The street lamp in front of the window shines straight onto a poster of teenage Viktor and he’s annoyed by it but he doesn’t have the heart to take it off the wall. He can’t change anything here. This room is a time capsule and he is only a visitor. He almost falls asleep feeling guilty because he left Otabek behind just like that, after Otabek was nothing but gentle and soft and understanding and patient. He sends him a text.

_Sorry I had to leave so suddenly_

_I’m at my grandpa's now_

_thank you_

_you helped me a lot_

 

Otabek replies immediately.

_Please take care of yourself. I’m glad you trusted me with everything._

_Please don’t hesitate to come see me again soon. It was nice having you here._

_Good night._

 

Yuri falls asleep smiling.

 

The next morning when he comes downstairs his grandfather is already up and half through the newspaper. When he notices Yuri he folds the huge pages and puts them aside.

“So,” he says when Yuri has sat down and pours tea from the big battered pot. “Horns.”

“Yes”, Yuri answers. “Horns.”

Nikolai humms, pondering for a moment. “It was your great-grandmother,” he explains without a warning. “My mother. She had horns.”

The steaming tea cup and Yuri’s hand hover between the table and Yuri’s mouth. For a moment he can only stare at his grandfather. “I didn’t know,” he says after a moment, his voice breaking.

“It wasn’t nice,” Nikolai says with a nod. “She had them cut off as a child. Her parents kept it a secret, but it all came to light in the end. They chased her away. Luckily, me and my sisters were not affected, nor was your father. It was assumed the genes had not been handed down.”

Yuri lowers his cup and his eyes. “I’m sorry.” His voice is not more than a whisper. He feels tears sting in his eyes. He’s a letdown, is what he is. A total disappointment. A miserable disgrace. Maybe he should have the horns removed after all, if only for the sake of his grandpa’s name. How can he be so selfish and think this is only about him. This is about his family, his entire bloodline! It’s about the good name of his coaches, Feltsman and Baranovskaya, names with meaning, names with wealth. And it’s about the world’s perception of this country. The country of his father and father’s father. The sacred state, Russia – the beloved country. A mighty will, a great glory. Glorious, free Fatherland.

“Don’t be.”

Yuri looks up in surprise.

“Don’t be sorry,” Nikolai emphasizes. “You are a good boy, Yurotchka. The best there is. And there is nothing to feel sorry about. You are wonderful the way you are. There’s nothing you need to apologize for. If anything it’s them who have to apologize. Them who made you come here in the middle of the night, them who made you run away from your home. So what, you have horns now, what does it matter? Does it make you less good a human? Does it make you less good a grandson? I think not. And you should think so too, Yurotchka. You are the same good person I raised you to be. Those horns don’t change that. It’s a shame they made you think this way.” He holds out his hand and Yuri takes it without hesitation. He’s crying again, relieved that after all his grandpa still loves him. How could he have doubted it?

After breakfast Nikolai goes  up stairs. Yuri hears him rummage around  up there while he’s doing the dishes, wondering what his grandpa is  up to. He learns when his grandpa comes downstairs again with an old leather-bound book. He tells Yuri to read it while Nikolai is away grocery shopping, so after the sound of the old Lada has vanished in the distance Yuri sits down on the couch with another cup of tea, opening the book carefully.

At first the handwriting is hard to read for him but beautiful, the ink still pitch black on the yellowish paper even after all those years. After a while gets used to the cursive cyrillic characters fast though and before he knows he’s nose deep in his great-grandmother’s diary. 

The first part is written in a place called Esutoru, in 1944 and the following year, and the latter in Uglegorsk, where Nonna Nikolaeva was sent after the truth about her horns came out. Reading through her records Yuri learns that the place is in fact the same, a port town on Sakhalin that just was renamed in 1946. He reads about his great-grandma’s life there, the harsh winters and the stormy sea, and the blue ocean shining in the summer sun like a sapphire, the seagulls calling so high up in the sky. He  reads about how much she missed her family, her husband Yuri, her daughters Katyusha and Nadja and her little son Kolya, whom she left behind in Moscow. With goosebumps he  absorbs her memories about her travel all the way through Russia to a place where no one would know her, to this strange new town full of Japanese people who welcomed her although they didn’t even understand each other. He  reads about the letters her husband Yuri wrote her, about how much he wished to see her again and how much she wished the same. He  reads about how she grew old in this town by the sea so far away when her heart had been with her family in Moscow all those years.

There’s a photo, too, an old monochrome shot of a tiny middle aged woman in a well-worn dress surrounded by Japanese women in working yukata. He looks at the photo and he knows her hair is blonde and her eyes are green, because it’s like looking in a broken mirror - the image is not a hundred percent him, but so close. This is his great-grandmother he’s looking at. His dear grandpa’s mother who had to leave when he was still a toddler because she had horns. It  hurts so much to learn that his grandpa had to grow up without his mother, much like Yuri did. It  hurts to think that even his great-grandfather Yuri, after whom Yuri is probably named, never ceased to love his wife, even after his family had her go into exile. It’s painful to realize that even now, more than seventy years later, Russia is still the same. Society is still making horned people suffer. There are still families cutting the horns of their children so they aren’t bullied in school, so they can live a normal life.

“This is bullshit,” Yuri sobs. He’s sad. But also he’s angry. Very, very angry. “This is fucking bullshit!”

He closes the book carefully, holding it close to his chest and he thinks about a lot of things.

He has to make a decision, and soon. That’s a fact. But it’s not about his horns, because he has decided already: he’s going to keep them. They are a part of him now, even if he didn’t want them in the first place. And he won’t let anybody decide over his body like that. It’s not like he doesn’t have to adapt to the pressure of expectations enough anyway all the time. He’s having his coaches decide everything for him: his looks, his diet, his costumes, his style, the way he presents himself. He realizes that he hasn’t made a decision for himself since he went to train in St Petersburg, not any important one at least. But this is important. This is essential for his future. It’s the decision on who Yuri Plisetsky wants to be. And he has decided not to let them take the initiative. He’ll do it himself. 

He decides to keep the horns, no holds barred. He’ll be the first Russian figure skater to win gold in an international competition - with horns. He won’t let this bullshit stop him. Fuck social expectations. Fuck traditional perceptions of aesthetics. Fuck Russia, beloved country, glorious, free Fatherland. It’s all worthless when in fact no one is free. When he doesn’t have the right to live his dream because of what, two extra bones? When the whole world is so much more understanding, what is his freedom worth if he has to go through the torture of having parts removed of his body just so he can bring glory to this fucked up fatherland of his. “Beauty” is what they call it to be hornless. “Beauty”, when it’s all just nothing but a stupid man-made creation, artificial, unreal. A fucking lie. 

But he knows  what beauty is. B ig, long horns, elegantly curved, majestic, like a crescent crown. T hat’s what beauty i s. Sincerity. Pride. That’s  beautiful . Taking on the fight. Strength, bravery. That’s  beautiful . Otabek Altin is  beautiful . 

Christophe Giacometti. 

Emil Nekola. 

Kenjirou Minami. 

And he’ll be, too. Yuri Petrovich Plisetsky, the prodigy, the descendant of the eminent Plisetsky family, the new shining star of figure skating.  _ The horned fairy _ .

He has decided.  He’ll show them.

He leaves after lunch, enthusiastic and confident and with a paper bag full of Pirozhki in his backpack.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you like it? Please tell me you liked it Q.Q


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Smut ahead *-*

If possible Otabek looks even more surprised than last time when Yuri just popped up in front of his door.

“I’m sorry for leaving so suddenly yesterday”, he says, but Otabek smiles his tiny smile.

“Welcome back.”

Yuri hugs him. It feels so good when Otabek hugs him back. It feels right. It feels honest. Like he can trust him.

They share the pirozhki Yuri brought watching another episode of that space documentary. 

When they are finished Yuri cuddles up against Otabek who seems a bit hesitant at first, but opens up to the closeness after a moment. With heavy beating heart Yuri looks at Otabek and Otabek looks back at him. It doesn’t feel like before. There’s more. So Yuri lifts his hand and with careful fingers touches Otabek’s left ear. It twitches with the unexpected touch, but stays still when Yuri starts stroking softly. The long, black fur on top is as soft as silk and after a while Otabek leans into the touch with closed eyes. There’s a blush on his cheeks and it suits him so much.

“You’re beautiful”, Yuri whispers, making Otabek open his eyes again. They look at each other and then Yuri leans in and kisses him. Just like that, on Otabek’s lips, his hand still caressing the soft fur of Otabek’s ear. And then Otabek’s hands are in Yuri’s hair, holding his head, tilting it to the side a little so their noses don’t nudge against each other and they kiss, they kiss for what feels like forever. Yuri can’t remember if he ever was this happy in his life. He’s so happy his guts twist, and his heart beats so hard and so fast and he can feel the tears behind his closed eyelids as Otabek just kisses him more and more and more. 

There’s the tip of a tongue there and Yuri lets it. Suddenly the kiss is different. It’s hot and wet and sloppy, desperate. Like Otabek has waited for this a long time and now he can finally have what he wanted for so long. It makes Yuri happy to think about that.

After a second or an eternity Otabek pulls back, his hands still in Yuri’s hair and he looks at him with shimmering black eyes. “What are you doing to me?”, he whispers, like it’s not obvious.

The answer is so simple. “I’m making you mine.”

Otabek gasps and Yuri kisses him again, leaning back on the couch pulling Otabek down with him.

That feeling is back again, that tingling in Yuri’s insides, just that now he knows exactly what it means. It’s simple: He’s in love with Otabek. He wants him, too. So he pulls him closer, between his legs. They both moan when they feel it, Otabek low and raspy, Yuri louder and a little surprised. He didn’t know  _ how much _ was going on with Otabek down there. It feels nice though, very nice. And not nearly enough.

When they start undressing each other they both falter.

“I’ve never done this”, Yuri whispers against Otabek’s lips and Otabek answers: “I’ve never done it with another man.”

“We’ll take our time”, Yuri suggests, stripping the shirt over Otabek’s head, carefully so it doesn’t catch in the horns. “And see how it all works.” He throws the shirt away, all focused on those gorgeous horns now. “You are so beautiful, Beka”, he whispers. “How did I not notice that before?”

Otabek groans, his face flushed red and he hides it against Yuri’s shoulder, one of his horns warm against Yuri’s neck. His hands slide under Yuri’s shirt, pushing it up until it’s crumpled under his chin and Otabek starts kissing Yuri’s chest. A million tiny kisses land on Yuri’s upper body, like rose petals raining down onto him, so soft are Otabek’s lips. 

“Beka”, Yuri moans, “Beka, Beka, it feels so good!” 

Otabek’s lips wander lower, kissing ribs and Yuri’s flat stomach, his navel and then even lower, making Yuri squirm and moan under his touch. Without thinking about it Yuri grabs the base of Otabek’s horns. The gasp that’s triggered by that is the most wonderful sound Yuri has ever heard. It turns into a moan, a long, soft “Aaaah”, as Otabek’s fingers grasp the waistband of Yuri’s jeans. His entire body tenses up and it only relaxes when Yuri lets go of the thick horns again. Otabek looks up at him, his eyes black and shimmering with arousal.

“Undress me”, Yuri says. He’s never seen Otabek so desperate.

To be honest, Yuri does half of the work undressing himself. The shirt is gone in a second, but the jeans are so tight Otabek is struggling, so in the end Yuri wriggles out of the purposely ripped black denim himself, leaving Otabek looking down on him with slightly parted lips.

Yuri knows that he’s beautiful; it’s his job after all. He’s used to people staring at him. He was never so happy about someone staring at him before though. Otabek’s eyes wander over Yuri’s chest, down to his lower body, much like his lips did before. He raises his hands but doesn’t touch him yet, his fingers hovering over Yuri’s tiny waist.

“Don’t be scared”, Yuri whispers. He takes one of Otabek’s hands to lead it onto his lower stomach. The touch is burning hot and they both gasp.

Otabek’s eyes flit upwards to Yuri’s, like he’s asking for permission. As an answer Yuri bites his lower lip and directs Otabek’s hand further down, until it's pressed against the bulge in his boxers.

It feels wonderful. Although there’s still fabric in between Yuri can’t help but jack up his hips and press his hard cock against Otabek’s big hand. Otabek starts rubbing, slowly but steadily, with enough force to make Yuri lose his mind. Then he leans down and pulls his hand away, but just before Yuri can complain about it he feels Otabek’s lips on him down there. He groans noisily, his hands tugging on the sofa padding, presses up against those wonderful lips so Otabek places his palm against Yuri’s hip to keep him still. The boxers are in the way and suddenly Yuri feels capable of a coherent action and tugs the waistband of the underwear down. Otabek helps him getting rid of the last piece of clothing, then is back down there again. 

His lips feel even better when there’s not the rough material keeping them from Yuri’s skin. Otabek’s kisses feel like silk, like sunshine, soft and warm and then wet and Yuri throws his head back breathless when Otabek takes him into his mouth. Yuri’s breath hisses as he inhales through his clenched teeth. He can’t believe this is happening. His best friend is sucking his dick, his wonderful, sexy, very best friend.

“Beka, Beka!”, he pants, but  _ Beka _ doesn’t answer, just keeps sucking and licking the precome from Yuri’s small pink cock.

And then, there’s fingers. Down there, nebby gentle fingers, pressing against Yuri’s hole, wet with spit and then one is slipping inside. It burns a little, but then it stops when only the fingertip is inside. There’s no way Yuri can focus on the slight burning sensation when Otabek works his tongue along the underside of Yuri’s cock and he almost forgets about the finger, but then it’s there again, going deeper and deeper. It only takes a moment and then it doesn’t even hurt anymore. It just feels good, much like when Otabek rubbed his horns, but  _ inside of him _ . A second finger stretches Yuri’s hole wider, but Otabek is so careful that it still doesn’t really hurt. If anything it feels better than before. Fuller, with more pressure. The fingers rub deeper, making Yuri squirm and moan, “Beka, Beka” until he feels he can’t last much longer. There’s this one spot inside of him. When Otabek rubs his fingertips over it Yuri sees stars, but he doesn’t want to finish yet. He hasn’t done anything for Otabek after all. Damn, Otabek even still wears his pants!

There’s one effective method to make Otabek freeze in his motion and Yuri doesn’t hesitate. He grabs the root of Otabek’s horns with both hands. Just like before Otabek stops moving, like petrified, his shoulders tense and a guttural sound from deep in his throat making him shudder. Yuri is very careful when he pulls on Otabek’s horns to make him look up. He doesn’t know how sensitive his friend’s horns are, but he knows how careful he needs to be with his own, so he assumes that what is a pleasurable feeling turns into pain for Otabek just as quickly.

Otabek’s eyes shimmer feverish when he is forced to look up. He doesn’t speak. He just stares at Yuri with this intense gaze, spit shimmering on his lips, two fingers still buried so deep in Yuri.

“I want you”, Yuri murmurs. He doesn’t know where this courage comes from. He’s never thought a lot about those things - they didn’t quite fit Lilia’s requisition on beauty. He doesn't give a shit now, though. He wants Otabek. More than that. “Do you want me, too?”

Otabek only nods slowly, his horns still held firmly by Yuri’s pale fingers. It almost feels like he loses his ability to speak when Yuri grabs his horns like that. Like he turns into a beast. The idea makes Yuri gasp.

“Then take me.”

Otabek pulls his fingers out, a strange sensation for Yuri, then struggles out of his pants, pushing the underwear down with them. When Yuri sees what lies beneath he bites his lip. To say Otabek is well-built is an understatement. His dick is huge, dark, jutting out of shimmering black hair. It’s leaking, the moisture glittering in the dim light. Yuri licks his lips. There’s no way he can resist.

With an almost inappropriately gentle tug he directs Otabek to sit back, then to lay down on his back. Letting go of the horns his small white hands ghost over the tan skin, the muscular shoulders, the broad chest, the abs. Then following a trail of black hair deeper down. The skin is hot under his fingers, like Otabek is glowing from the inside. 

Yuri bends over and lets his breath meet the smooth skin of Otabek’s cock. A growl can be heard, like from an animal. It encourages Yuri to let his tongue lick over the glistening tip. It tastes good, better than he expected, so he licks again. And then again, feeling brave until he’s courageous enough to wrap his lips around the tip.

He’s never done this and it must be obvious from his experiments on how to angle his head and where to put his hand on the sofa padding between Otabek’s legs. But Otabek doesn’t say anything, just moans his deep moans, so it must feel good enough. Yuri bobs his head up and down like Otabek did before, but he can't even take half of it inside without gagging, it’s just too big and he’s not used to it. That and he wants it somewhere else anyway. He feels so empty since Otabek pulled his fingers out. So he makes the best out of the situation and makes sure Otabek’s dick is positively wet with spit when he sits up again. 

Looking over Otabek he can’t deny he’s proud of his work. The blush on Otabek’s high cheek bones is deep and beautiful, his hair a mess and his ears twitching. He stares at Yuri when he crawls to sit on Otabek’s thighs, his lashes shimmering wet.

“I want you”, Yuri repeats, his voice barely audible. He moves his hips so that his dick grinds against Otabek’s and bites his lip. He wants to be one with him. Much more than just friends. Much more than just two individuals close to each other. He wants him inside. “Please.”

As an answer Otabek holds his hands out. Yuri takes them, using them as support, pushing up on his knees. Very slowly he sinks down on Otabek.

Of course it hurts. Otabek’s cock is much bigger than his two fingers inside of Yuri have been, but at the same time it’s a little squishy, the skin soft and the flesh pliant. While Yuri moans out, Otabek just stares up at him slack-jawed and his breath is nothing more than a shallow pant. 

When it’s all inside, Yuri chuckles breathless, proud of how good he can take it. He places Otabek’s hands on his waist, then presses up again a little, just to sink down again. He feels so full, his hole stretched so wide. Otabek fills him perfectly, hard and hot and huge. Yuri watches the fluffy black ears twitch as he bottoms out, then lets the big cock slip out again a little. It’s probably exhausting to keep going like this. So he leans forward a little, his hands on Otabek’s shoulders. Like this it’s easier for him to move his hips and he learns that it’s easier for Otabek to move as well. 

In the beginning Otabek’s thrusts are careful, slow, but when Yuri closes his eyes in bliss and moans, his fingers grasping the flesh of Otabek’s shoulders, he moves harder, faster. 

The hands on his hips stabilize Yuri, Otabek’s biceps bulky and his abs contracting as he pounds into Yuri’s lithe body. At this point Otabek pants heavily, like he’s keeping his breath in between thrusts. 

Yuri looks down on Otabek’s gorgeous body, all muscles and strength, but his skin so soft and smooth. For a moment he watches how his cock leaks moisture onto Otabek’s lower stomach, the tip smearing the precum all over the caramel tan skin and the well-sculpted muscles underneath. He leans down to kiss Otabek’s collar bones, almost losing his balance, but Otabek holds his hips like a vise, so secure he might leave bruises. The idea makes Yuri’s insides seethe. 

He straightens his back, his hair swinging back and forth like gold twine, and runs his fingers up along Otabek’s jawline, scratching the trimmed part of his undercut right behind the ears. Otabek fucks into him harder and it feels so good Yuri thinks he won’t last much longer. It also makes him lose his balance again so in the heat of the moment he gets ahold of the only thing in reach, which, of course, is Otabek’s horns.

Otabek screams, and for a moment Yuri is afraid that he's hurt him, but then he feels Otabek releasing inside him, pumping his load into Yuri, so deep. His hips don’t still though, he thrusts into Yuri a few more times until it’s all out, then he collapses back on the sofa, panting. Yuri lets go of his horns, supporting his weight on his hands next to Otabek’s shoulders

At that Otabek opens his eyes. They widen at the sight of Yuri, like he's surprised he's still there and it wasn't all just a dream. His look wanders from his face to his dick that's begging for attention, hard and leaking shimmering drops. He reaches out and cradles Yuri's head in his big, warm hands, pulling him down gently. He's still hard inside of Yuri, just softening slowly. Maybe his body hasn't realized he's come already and wants to keep going. Yuri wants to, that's for sure. He needs to. 

Otabek gently pulls his head down and kisses him. Not careful like before. Not passionate like before. But deep. Deep and slow, like there’s a lot of feeling that Otabek wants to pour inside of him. Like he poured into him just now, but -  _ meaningful _ . His hands direct Yuri’s face down so their lips meet. In the process, Yuri leaning forward, there’s a shift in their connection; Otabek’s dick slips out a little and Yuri can feel the cum seep out of his widened hole. It’s a weird feeling. It’s a good feeling, too. It’s probably more intimate than what they did before. He can feel the blush hot on his cheeks. With gentle strength Otabek holds him and kisses him into oblivion. Yuri leans down, his lower arms on Otabek’s muscular chest. He can feel the heart beating under the tan skin. Then Otabek breaks the kiss and redirects Yuri’s head just a little, and then there’s something that has Yuri yelp in surprise and arousal.

With gentle lips and tongue and teeth Otabek fondles the root of Yuri’s right horn. His hands hold Yuri in place, only the thumb of the right rubbing Yuri’s left horn. The twitching blond ears brush against Otabek’s fingers. While Yuri’s dick is so hard it aches, leaking an embarrassing sticky puddle onto Otabek’s abs, the one inside him is softening, slipping out and there's more of Otabek’s seed trickling out. Out of Yuri and down his ass cheeks, down his thighs and onto Otabek. It feels like it's so much, like it’s so much that Otabek filled him up with, spurt after spurt. And Yuri is losing it, having it run out of him and let it form a puddle right underneath him while Otabek, his wonderful Otabek, is penetrating his poor little horns, one with his mouth and the other with his thick, strong fingers. 

And then Otabek whispers, his breath so hot against Yuri’s right horn, “You’re so beautiful”, and Yuri releases. Thick threads of cum spurt across Otabek’s chest, lines of white up to his collarbone and Yuri just whines. 

Otabek doesn’t stop. He just keeps whispering against Yuri’s horn between kisses, rubbing the other gently. “So beautiful, my Yura, my gorgeous Yura, look at you.” Yuri’s body convulses, another spurt painting Otabek white, weaker though. His hole tightens around Otabek, more of his load pressed out of him as Otabek keeps whispering: “My beautiful Yura, so sweet, so soft, just for me.”

With a weak moan Yuri collapses. He sinks down onto Otabek’s broad chest, then whimpers when Otabek’s dick slides out, spent and soft and moist. The wetness down there makes Yuri’s skin tingle, but he can’t feel ashamed, not when Otabek wraps his arms around him and holds him. There’s a kiss pressed onto Yuri’s hair and Otabek’s voice vibrates in his chest when he says “It’s alright.”

Yuri closes his eyes, not giving a fuck about how he just laid down into both his cum and Otabek’s and how sticky they’ll both be later.

Otabek says it’s alright and it really is.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, here's the final chapter! Thank you all for the incredible support this AU has received!! It really makes me incredibly happy, to see the kudos and comments coming in, the feedback on tumblr and twitter and personally, thank you guys so much!! It's truly amazing to see how much positivity this created and it's all thanks to you! Super-shoutout to magic spross, who encouraged and helped me so much throughout this project. Kuss auf den Kopf!! <3<3<3

They haven’t talked about why Yuri came back from his grandpa’s place. Yuri didn’t say anything about it, because despite everything he still struggled with talking about this entire situation and Otabek didn’t say anything about it because he knows Yuri will explain it when he feels ready. At least that’s what Yuri guesses. Anyway Otabek has given him time to think before and he does so now.

When Otabek comes out of the shower in nothing but boxers and sits down on the mattress in the bedroom Yuri knows he feels ready now. Of course Otabek let him shower first, so Yuri is tucked into the smooth white sheets, looking up at his friend with clear eyes.

“My grandpa’s mother had horns”, he says. His fingers play with the suture of the blanket. He can’t read Otabek’s look. It’s completely neutral. Maybe there isn’t something to read to begin with. “I read her diary. She had them removed before the marriage, but was sent to exile when they found out. Her husband had known. He had married her anyway. He wrote her letters. He wanted to see her again. He didn’t care about the horns, but there wasn’t anything he could do to convince his parents to take her back. They never saw each other again. When she died her belongings were sent back to Moscow but they didn’t let her back, even after she had died. She’s buried somewhere on Sakhalin. All by herself.”

Otabek doesn’t say anything. He just looks at Yuri, his eyebrows crinkled, like he doubts. But of course he doesn’t. He listens. He cares.

“I’m not going to let them remove my horns”, Yuri declares. “I’m not letting them continue this shit. I’m going to stand up against that, no matter what. I’m more than a figure skater. I’m a Plisetsky. I’m from my grandpa’s blood. I’m from my great-grandmother’s blood. And I’m proud of it. They can have me with horns. Or they won’t have me at all.”

It’s so rare to see Otabek smile, almost uncanny. But it’s encouraging, too.

When they lay in bed later, Yuri snuggled up against Otabek’s warm chest, he dares to ask: “How was it for you? Having horns.”

Otabek thinks about this question for a long time. “Painful”, he then says. “But in a different way. I wasn’t used to people judging me because of them. I hit rock bottom when I trained abroad. People don’t mean to hurt you with their behaviour, with their stares, with their apologies. But they do. They don’t treat you like you’re one of them, by trying to be cautious. They try to be understanding. They try to be respectful. They try to be casual about it, but that ruins everything. I was close to giving up and return home so many times. I was locked up in my room, asking myself why, crying myself to sleep, so many times. I only didn’t give up because I had a goal.”

Yuri looks up at him. “To compete against me”, he whispers. That’s what Otabek told him when they first became friends. That he wanted to meet him on eye level.

Otabek looks him in the eye. “To become your friend.”

Yuri turns his face away, blushing. “How do I not remember you from the summer camp anyway? Hard to miss a guy with horns as long as a radish…”

“They weren’t that big back then”, Otabek explains. “They had just come through the skin. They only grew over time. Like everything else...” He clears his throat. “They produce hormones. Testosterone and that kind of stuff. Made my physique less wiry and my facial features and overall built… well… more masculine.”

“ _ Very _ masculine.”

“My strength and stamina as well. So if you’ve noticed any changes in your body recently, that’s probably why.”

Yes, Yuri has noticed changes in his stamina just tonight. He hides his glowing face against Otabek’s chest.

It smells so good, Otabek’s skin. He wishes they could be this close all the time. Otabek is a wonderful person, being there for him, encouraging him, listening to him. He’s so unlike anyone else Yuri usually deals with.

“Do you think I can do this?”, he murmurs against the tan skin.

Otabek places a kiss on Yuri’s head. “I know you can.”

*

When Yuri arrives back home the first thing he does is check on his cat. Lilia kept her promise and took care of Potya, but of course the boy is happy to have his owner back. They cuddle on the floor right behind the door and Yuri tells Potya everything. The cat doesn’t treat Yuri differently, with or without horns. Yuri wishes humans could be that wise.

He arranges a meeting with Yakov and Lilia. There’s a thunderstorm and he feels like it’s suitable. He is scared as shit but he won’t back out. He never has, he won’t start now. And for this confrontation he is  _ prepared _ .

When he enters Yakov’s office thunder strikes. His two coaches look at him without a word of greeting. Their expressions say that they know something’s going on. They know he didn’t come to apologize and hop on the plane to fly to Nizhny Novgorod or Voronezh with them.

“I apologize for being an inconvenience”, he says when he sits down on the antique upholstered chair. He sits head held high and folds his hands in his lap, looking them straight in the eye, first Yakov, then Lilia. “I have decided to keep my horns.” And before one of them can say something he adds: “I am well aware of how that makes you look, but I can not have regards on your situation in this. It is too much of a personal issue to make it depend on obsolete notions. If you decide you want to end the affiliation with me, I can understand that. I just want you to consider keeping me as your protegé so I can prove to you and to all Russia, that I can still be an athlete worthy of your trust. Let me compete under your guidance and I will take the Grand Prix gold medal.”

There’s silence in the room after his speech, cold and smothering.

Then Yakov is the first to speak: “Is that what that damn Altin told you to say?”

“He has nothing to do with this”, Yuri says with a sharp voice. “This is my decision.”

“The government will not approve of this”, Lilia cuts in. “You will lose the back-up of the sports ministry and your sponsors. This might ruin your career.”

“I know. I am willing to take that risk.”

“Yuri”, Yakov says, leaning forward in his chair. “If this is about the surgery… You don’t need to be scared. I found a good surgeon, I made him promise it almost won’t hurt. You can be on the ice again in less than a week-”

“I’m not having my horns removed!”, Yuri insists. “If you want to withdraw my registration for the Grand Prix, then I won’t stop you. But I think you are both willing to win a gold medal. I certainly am.”

“Well, keep your horns.” Both Yuri and Yakov look at Lilia surprised. “I am not going to let your potential go to waste because of such a minor obstacle. Not to mention the hard work we put in this season’s programs. If Giacometti can pull it off, then you can. Better even.”

Yakov stares at her. “But the sponsors-”

“The sponsors will come back after Yuri takes gold. They’d be stupid not to. Yuri is born to make history, one way or the other. If we want to be a part of that, we can not hesitate.”

Yakov sits back defeated.

“You will be on the ice tomorrow morning. We wasted enough time with this little caper. The first competition is in three weeks. I demand absolute commitment.”

Yuri doesn't know if he should laugh or cry. He wants to hug Lilia but her look is still pure venom so he doesn’t.

He hugs Potya when he arrives home, spins in a pirouette laughing.

He hugs Otabek when they meet again in Lyon.

His friend looks up at where his horns should be immediately, his frown crinkling his eyebrows.

“Lilia wants to keep it a secret until the final”, Yuri explains in a hushed voice. His coach had some extensions attached to his hair in the front, so they can hide the horns under his thick braids. The plan is to reveal them just before he steps on the ice in Fukuoka for dramatic effect. “I’m gonna kick ass!”

Otabek smiles and hugs him close. His scent is heavenly.

Yuri takes the gold medal in Lyon and silver in Colorado Springs.

Keeping it a secret from everyone until the very last moment doesn’t work out though. 

Mila bursts into his hotel room in Fukuoka before he can pull his hood up, then she freezes staring at one horn then the other.

“When were you going to tell me?”, she asks, throwing the door shut behind her and marches up to him. She looks so disappointed Yuri averts his eyes. But then Mila squats down in front of the bed he sits on and looks at him with shimmering eyes. “You look adorable, Yuri!”

His head snaps back up.

“Oh God, you thought I’d bully you? You’re breaking my heart! Like I’d ever do something to such a cute little-” She doesn’t even end the sentence, just ruffles his hair. Yuri realizes he hasn’t let her do that since the horns began to grow. How long has it been? Six, seven months? He missed it, actually.

They eat the Japanese sweets Mila initially came to share with him and Yuri tells her everything. From the day he realized he was growing horns, to his confession to Lilia and Yakov to his visits to Otabek and his grandpa where he learned the truth. Well, he doesn’t tell her  _ everything _ , because he rather leaves out the part where Otabek takes full advantage of his poor sensitive horns.

“And you’re going to present them the day after tomorrow for your short program?”, Mila concludes when he is finished explaining her the plan and he nods.

“Just like that?”

Yuri is confused. “What do you mean ‘just like that’?”

Mischief is glittering in Mila’s ocean blue eyes. “Oh, I have a wonderful idea!”

No, Yuri doesn’t present his horns  _ just like that _ . When he takes off his hooded jacket to step onto the ice for the short program his horns are painted in red and black and violet, like his costume. Angry and radiant and beautiful. The crowd goes wild and Yuri doesn’t know if it’s because they are shocked in a good or in a bad way. It doesn’t matter. He surprised the audience even before his program started. And that’s what it’s all about.

For the free skate Mila paints his horns a deep blue. She uses almost an entire bottle of 3000 Yen nail polish on it, then applies glitter. They watched dozens of youtube tutorials from that Austrian model until they decided for what color and technique to go and it was worth it. After Yuri scored high in the short program he was all over the media, teared apart by some, praised to the skies by others. If anything the free skate is even better. He breaks his personal best score by three full points, leaving JJ in the second place on the podium and Christophe Giacometti winking at him from third.

“Great show”, he says in his dulcet voice, radiating charme. “Congratulations.”

Yuri gives him a genuine smile, then they pose for the photos with their medals.

After being awfully quiet for the past days since the short program JJ stops Yuri after the medal ceremony in the hallway when noone is around. Yuri’s not sure what that idiot’s problem is and crosses his arms in front of his chest in defense. He’s not sure if JJ would do more than hoax him, but he’s heard things. Horned people being bullied by their environment verbally, but also physically. He doubts JJ is the type for actually assaulting him, spiff and naturally hornless as he is, but you never know. It might be better to be cautious.

“Listen”, JJ says. 

He hasn’t talked to Yuri, hasn’t made his usual jokes. It feels like he avoided him to be honest.

“Listen, I just wanted to say I’m sorry.”

Yuri stares at him. “What?”

The confidence JJ usually radiates is nowhere to be seen. Instead he lowers his eyes staring at Yuri’s chest or stomach. “I said I’m sorry. I’ve been an asshole to you. I know that and I don’t feel awesome about that. I just wanted to let you know that I didn’t mean the things I said and the way I behaved around you was… crappy. I shouldn’t have done it, I’m… I was just jealous, I guess.”

“Jealous”, Yuri repeats, slowly, because the word feels wrong. “Of what?”

“Of you. Of how easily you had your debut and take the gold medal. You made it look so effortless when I was struggling so much that I got jealous and… and mean. I didn’t realize that it’s probably not easier for you than it is for me. With all the pressure from your family and friends and the whole country. But when you… when you showed up like… like  _ that _ ”, he gestures towards Yuri’s horns, looking at him almost shy, “I realized that there’s probably a lot more pressure on you than I can imagine. I know the standards in Russia. It must have been hard for you. And not just since this happened. I came to think that there’s no skater who hasn’t gone through shit on his way up here. And this is why I wanted to apologize. Because I let out my frustration on you when you were probably the one who’s had the hardest fight.” He looks at Yuri with those shimmering blue eyes that look like the sky over St. Petersburg. “If you want to accept it, I’m sorry.”

He doesn’t expect Yuri to not punch his face, it’s obvious from the way his shoulders hang. Such a proud man, Yuri thinks, with such a breakable core.

So he holds his hand out. “Peace.”

After a moment of shocked silence JJ smiles an astounded smile. Then he jumps at Yuri and hugs him. “That’s peace á la JJ Style!”

Now Yuri  _ does _ want to punch him.

*

Nikolai Plisetsky, standing at the doorstep with a wheat-powdered blue apron, tries not to stare at Otabek’s horns.

“I know”, Otabek says with a lopsided grin. “They look smaller on TV.”

Yuri’s grandfather turns around and marches back into the house. “I made Pirozhki”, he calls. “You boys better hurry before they’re cold.”

With a happy laugh Yuri takes Otabek by the hand and pulls him inside.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is it! Please leave me a comment if you liked the story! Also let me know if I should write a Otabek-POV prequel lol  
> HMU on tumblr and check out my art for this AU [HERE](https://captainoceanwhirl.tumblr.com/)  
> or on twitter if thats more your thing[HERE](https://twitter.com/KaiyouKara)  
> I love you all <3


End file.
